


Unholy Matrimonies

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Fake AH Crew, Multi, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4898860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time Geoff Ramsey and Burnie Burns were big bad wolves on Achievement City streets. After Geoff's wife leaves him, he lags behind in the race. A decade later Burnie is the most notorious crime boss running the city, whilst Geoff struggles to manage a small time gang. Geoff receives a wake-up call that leaves him embarking on a recruiting mission. Blinded by a personal vendetta, he makes questionable decisions in the name of glory - but perhaps a new and improved crew will help carry him to success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Most Expensive Snickers Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewaywardqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaywardqueen/gifts).



> Special thanks and credit to Ronnie (thewaywardqueen) for helping me brainstorm and telling me when my writing sucks.

If there was one thing Geoff always remembered, it was dancing. Not well, but together and happy, and that was the overwhelming take away from the memories. Four tattooed arms above two drunk heads, fingers grasping first for the stars, and then for each other. Things had never been simple, but back then it was possible to at least pretend they were.

Now he drank alone, as he did all things in the privacy of his apartment. Like 11am: a double shot of whiskey for breakfast. Another shot as he loaded the washing machine. A third shot on the balcony, overlooking Achievement City. Geoff found comfort in the hard lines of the tall buildings. His hands gripped the rails as his gaze fell on familiar landmarks: the tall spire of the bank, the concrete insignia of the hospital, the glass panels of the mall. His eyes skipped over the less comforting sight of the Rooster Hotel - the owner of which was the only thing stopping Geoff from running the city. He had a grip on the system that Geoff was yet to obtain. In the distance was the pier stretching across murky waters, the Ferris wheel churning at its furthest point. Further still was the bittersweet sight of Achievement Island, where his estranged wife made a living off of wood carving. He wondered, as he did every morning, what she was doing in this exact moment. Was she busy with her chainsaw? Was she consulting with contacts about her next project? Was she - and this is what Geoff reluctantly hoped for - on her own balcony, looking towards the city, and thinking about him?

Three sharp knocks at the door pulled his attention back to his empty apartment. There was only one person who would stop by unannounced and uninvited.

“What, Jack?” he spoke as he swung it open.

“Get dressed.” The other man said, glancing at Geoff’s bare torso. He was also the only person who could get away with addressing Geoff in such a manner. Once upon a time the two of them had been close friends. That was before Geoff had decided personal relationships may have been more of a hindrance than a help. Still, he respected Jack on a professional level and maintained his position as advisor and second in command.

“Dude, it’s my day off.”

“We don’t get days off, Boss. The kid’s causing trouble for our boys again.”

“Fucking kids these days, no respect for authority!” Geoff threw his hands up before slamming the door shut. Jack waited patiently on the other side. When the door swung open again Geoff was clothed, with an automatic tucked into his waistband.

“Before I leave, is it _really_ necessary that I come out and deal with this?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me, you’re gonna wanna see the mess they’ve made.”

“Well, fuck.”

⁂

"Why do we need to go to the shop, Michael?"

"To get eggs, Gavin."

"Eggs? Why do we need eggs?"

"'Cause I wanna make a fucking omelette. And stop saying 'we', there's no 'we' about this. _I_ need to go to the shop because _I_ need eggs. You don't have to be a part of this."

"Yeah but everything is more fun when we're together, isn't it, Michael."

"Whatever you fucking say, Gav."

The two boys arrived at Haywood's before the conversation could go further. Michael respectfully lowered his hood before realising the man behind the counter was not the owner of the store, but his employee.

"S'up, Adam. Ryan not in today?"

"Nah, his mom's in town so he's looking after her."

"Cute." Gavin interjected with a snigger. Neither Michael nor Adam shared his amusement.

"Anyway, what can I do for you, Michael?" Adam asked, hands splayed out on the counter.

"Oh I'm just here for eggs, man, don't worry about me. Keep an eye on that one though." Michael jabbed his thumb towards Gavin. "The guy's got sticky fingers and a habit of touching things he can't afford."

Adam eyed Gavin, unsure if that was his cue to laugh. While Michael sought out his eggs, Gavin browsed with interest and intrigue. The stock was purely natural and organic products, which fascinated Gavin every time he visited.

"Sheep's cheese." He muttered, peering into the fridge. "What does that mean?"

"Jesus, Gav, it's not rocket science." Michael rolled his eyes as he placed the eggs in front of Adam.

Gavin turned, ignoring Michael and continuing to look around the shop. The interior was almost exclusively wood - the shelves, the flooring, the tables and chairs. The lights that hung low were naked bulbs. He appreciated the atmosphere of the place. It contradicted the modern hustle and bustle of the rest of the city.

As Michael paid for his eggs the bell above the door rang and a tall, dark-haired man walked in. He had a laptop tucked under an arm, and papers clutched in his hand.

"Flat white, Adam." He said, before glancing at both Gavin and Michael.

“Mr. Heyman?” Gavin stopped, wide-eyed. The man gave a greeting nod and a hint of a smile before taking a seat and firing up his laptop. Michael and Gavin shared a wordless look, having not seen their ex-teacher since 9th grade. He’d lost his job at the end of the year after an underground boxing scandal involving him and a student. Gavin and Michael were hazy on the details. Many versions of the story were whispered in corridors, classes and the cafeteria. As far as they’d heard he was now running a gym downtown, and making a killing off of the thing he was fired for. However, his stretched hoodie and beaten sneakers didn’t exactly conjure images of a heaving wallet.

“How’s it going, Mr. Heyman.” Michael asked over the sound of coffee pouring from the grinder.

He sighed through his nose. “Jesus Christ, call me Joel. I’m not a teacher anymore.”

“Fuck off, there’s no way you were a teacher!” Adam piped up, smiling at this new information. Joel looked up at him wordlessly, a frown on his lips. Adam looked between Michael and Gavin. “He used to be your teacher? What did he teach?”

“Economics.” Michael said.

“We had him for homeroom too.” Gavin added. He was looking at Joel, but the older man had already diverted his attention back to his laptop.

“That’s brilliant. I’m telling Ryan.” Adam goaded. Joel pulled a face, but resumed his silence.

He remained silent too, when the two boys said goodbye to him as they left. Once outside, Michael repositioned his hood and swung the plastic bag that held his eggs. "What's so funny about a guy taking care of his mother?" He asked, almost accusingly.

"Don't you ever just think that Ryan is a bit too normal?"

"Gavin, I want you to explain to me how a concept like that even begins to make sense."

"I just get the feeling that something is up with him, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"Well no one is that normal." At Michael's silence Gavin explained further. "He's just so pleasant and... and unproblematic. I bet he's secretly an absolute maniac."

Michael sighed, digging his keys out of his pocket and twirling them round his finger. "Gavin," he looked up towards the sky as if answers would fall from it. "I'm so glad I don't live in your world."

“He doesn’t look any different does he?”

“Who? Ryan? Different from what?”

“No, Mr. Heyman. Joel.”

“Oh, right. Why _would_ he look different?”

“I dunno… I thought he might’ve grown a beard or something.”  

“Talking about absolute maniacs, that guy was definitely one of them. Is definitely one of them. Even just now he was like _‘uuuggghhh why would you call me Mr. Heyman that’s so depressing’_ ” Michael exaggerated the flatness of Joel’s voice.

“Nah he was alright.” Gavin disagreed. “He really help me a lot after… you know… the incident.” He lowered his eyes, suddenly taking great interest in examining the tips of his shoes.

“Yeah.” Michael sighed, his tone sobered. “Welp, this is me.” He gestured towards the apartment complex they’d stopped outside of.

“Yeah.” Gavin looked up at the building, unsure of how he should execute his farewell.

“You wanna come in?” Michael offered, though it was clear the offer was half-hearted.

“Nah, you’re alright.” Gavin shrugged, though it was clear he’d wanted to accept.

⁂

Kdin and Caleb stood in the parking lot, beside their car, in matching hands-on-hips stances. They’d stopped by the store to pick up some snacks half an hour into the patrol Geoff had sent them on.

"All I wanted was a fucking Snickers." Kdin broke their stunned silence. "You know how much I thought a Snickers would cost?"

"Uh... like, a dollar?" Caleb guessed.

"Right!" Kdin exclaimed. "A dollar at most! I did not expect that today one Snickers bar would cost me a dollar and the fucking tires of my goddamn car being sliced!"

"I... I mean, how could anyone expect that?"

"And you know who it was." Kdin continued as if Caleb hadn't spoken. "You know exactly who it was. That annoying, shitty little fuckface, prepubescent hobo-"

"The Brown Recluse?"

"Don't call him that! It makes him sound cool." Kdin hated that the kid who had been terrorising Geoff’s crew for as long as he’d been a part of it had been given an alias akin to a superhero. In Kdin’s opinion, the punk hardly deserved such a powerful name. The most the ‘Brown Recluse’ had ever done was be a minor inconvenience. While annoying, he posed no real threat other than the possibility of diminishing the crew’s legitimacy. After all, what kind of crime boss lets a homeless teenage orphan get in the way of business?

"You know, Kdin-"

"What?"

"You know he's right there?"

" _What?_ "

"Right there." Caleb pointed to the roof of the 7/11 they'd just exited, where a hoodie-clad figure stood smirking at them.

“Son of a bitch.” Kdin muttered before pointing at the offender. “You better run, bitch.” He said in a much louder voice. The Brown Recluse got that message loud and clear, and was off before Kdin finished the sentence.

“So were you planning to go after him because we don’t know parkour like he does and also we don’t have a fully functional car.”

“Caleb, you see this car right here.” Kdin stepped towards the car parked next to theirs. “This is ours now.” To illustrate his point he used his semi-automatic pistol to break the window and let himself in. Once behind the wheel he let out a sharp laugh. “Rookie left the car running. C’mon, get in!” Caleb complied, albeit reluctantly, and Kdin peeled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

“There.” Caleb pointed. The Brown Recluse was jumping roofs, and it didn’t take long for them to catch up to him in the car. Kdin removed a hand from the wheel to aim his pistol, and missed the first shot.

“Are you serious, Kdin?”

“Oh don’t be a pussy; I’m not trying to kill him. I just want to slow him down enough for us to take him to the Boss. Ah, shit.”

The sound of the firearm seemed to have triggered a real fear into the boy, making him speed up and jump to a level out of their site. Kdin made an unsuccessful attempt at drifting round the upcoming corner, subsequently swerving slightly off course. The mishap was enough for them to lose their bearings in relation to where their target was.

“Which way did he go?” Kdin demanded.

“That way, I think, but honestly he could be down any old alleyway by now.” This was not helpful considering the amount of alleys and backways that separated the buildings in this part of town.

“Well keep your eyes fucking peeled.” Kdin sped up. After driving past several empty alleys and rooftops they finally spotted the kid jumping a fence. “ _Oh ho_ , he is going down!”

Before they could turn the car another vehicle ploughed into them, sending them spinning. Their motion was only stopped by a shopfront, raining a wall of shattered glass through their already demolished windshield.

“What the fuck!” Kdin punched down the airbag that was invading his space, taking little time to recuperate before exiting the car. He looked around for the perpetrator, finding another car down the street with a busted bumper. He started towards it, Caleb following, but stopped short when a familiar man stepped out of the passenger side.

“You wanna explain what the fuck you’re doing stealing my car.” He waved an accusing finger in their direction.

“Shit, man, we were just borrowing it.” Kdin tried with a half-hearted laugh.

“We’re not getting out of this one, Kdin.” Caleb muttered.

“I like to be asked before people borrow my stuff. Oh, drop that fucking gun Kdin, I’m not an idiot.”

“Come on, be reasonable, I wouldn’t shoot _you_.”

“ _You’re_ telling _me_ to be reasonable? You just stole my fucking car!” The man turned to his driver. “Blaine, get Geoff on the line, I’m sick of his street rats fucking my shit up all the time.”

“You don’t need to get Geoff involved-“

“No.” The man cut Caleb off. “I will get Geoff involved. I’ll do whatever I goddamn wanna do. You all need to learn the fucking lesson that you don’t get to fuck with Burnie Burns. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yeah, Burnie.” Kdin sighed. “You always do.”

 

 


	2. The Look of Success

Burnie Burns was one of the most interesting personalities Geoff had ever had to deal with in his criminal career. The man was a living oxymoron. Seeing him sitting in the French Cafe with his large hands cradling a steaming mug was simultaneously like seeing a bull in a china shop, and a man who had never looked more in control. Even his bodyguard beside him seemed to stand out like a sore thumb, and blend in all at once. Kdin and Caleb, on the other hand, looked scruffy and bloodied, and altogether unworthy of the fluffy croissants that sat in delicate plates in front of them. Geoff was all too aware of how obvious it was when he sat down which pair belonged to him. Jack, however, in his button down and trimmed beard could’ve slipped right into Burnie’s party without raising an eyebrow.

This was the first time it occurred to Geoff that appearances were in fact a crucial part of earning respect. Geoff had previously had more than enough run-ins with the infamous Burnie Burns. He had danced through each encounter with cockiness and nonchalance, but his new revelation had muscled right through his confidence.

“Burnie.” he nodded curtly, without the usual venom behind his tone. “Long time.”

It took Burnie a moment to reply, taken aback by Geoff’s lack of vigour.

“Been having a rough time without me, Ramsey?”

“Oh, get to the point.”

“I want you out of my territory.” Burnie spoke, as usual, with finality to his tone. Geoff was too used to this to be intimidated.

“What else is new?”

“I mean it this time.”

“We mean it every time.”

“For real.”

Geoff couldn’t not roll his eyes at that. “Oooh, I’m quaking in my boots, sheriff.”

“There’s the spirit I remember you having!” Burnie smirked. “Look, Ramsey.” He leaned back in his chair, lounging placidly like a cat. “I’ve been recruiting for a long time now. You are beyond outnumbered.”

“Why are you sharing this information with me?” Geoff also leaned back, mimicking Burnie’s relaxed posture.

“Because at this point there’s nothing you can fucking do about it!” Burnie said though a laugh.  

“Right, well what’s the point of all this?” Geoff huffed. “We’ve been at a stalemate for years now, why are you suddenly - _apparently_ \- pulling out the big guns?”

“Because you’re pissing me off! And you have been this whole time!” Burnie’s sudden outburst, the break in his cool demeanour, had everyone at the table sitting up to attention. “Listen, we agreed to stop actively fighting on the grounds that we stick to our territories-”

“Yeah, well, that’s kinda hard when the territories you gave me are two tiny fucking corners of the map. My grounds barely cover the distance from my house to the nearest cornerstore, asshole.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

“ _Me? Dramatic?_ Coming from the biggest fucking drama queen of all time!”

“You guys really sound like teenagers.” Kdin cut into the bickering, earning a wary glance from both Caleb and Jack.

“You shut your fucking mouth, Kdin.” Burnie hissed, jabbing a finger at him. He looked back at Geoff, fists clenched and resting on the table. “Ramsey, it’s not my fucking fault you could never keep up with me. I gave you the territory you deserved. You know, I could be lenient about you pushing the boundaries if it weren’t for the fact that your pets are so interfering.”  

“Interfering? What are you talking about?” Geoff shook his head.

“Oh, like you don’t know. Dealing on my streets. Damaging my property. Snooping around the hotel. It’s like everytime I turn a corner one of them is right fucking there.”

“You know the whole ‘damaging your property’ thing might not be us. It might be that fucking street urchin.” Kdin made himself part of the conversation again.

“Street urchin, what street urchin?” Burnie asked.

“The Brown Recluse.” Caleb mumbled.

“ _The Brown Recluse_.” Burnie repeated with a scoff. “Funny thing, I know for a fact the Brown Recluse has never stolen my car.” All eyes fell on Kdin and Caleb, all accusing. “Come on, Ramsey. Even you can’t deny that today was just way out of line.” Burnie took a sip of his coffee as words failed Geoff. After a prolonged silence, Burnie spoke up again. “Listen, I’ve just had enough. Admittedly, it’s not just you, Ramsey. There are a lot of forces at work here. I may not be your only enemy, but I’m definitely your angriest right now.” He took a moment to drain the last of his drink.

“What does that even mean? Is that a threat?” Geoff’s brows drew together.

“I’m just saying, if you don’t get your act together, I’m flushing you out.”

“So you are threatening me?” At Geoff’s accusation Burnie raised his hands in a non-conclusive shrug. “Dude, you know you can’t do that.”

“I know sure as shit I can. Face it, Ramsey - you’re not even a crime boss any more. You stopped being one as soon as Griffon left you. A long time ago you had big plans to run this city, and now you can’t even run your own team. It’s pathetic. Here’s money for the bill.” He chucked a few notes on the table and stood up. “Come on, Blaine. We better get you ready for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Geoff asked, but Burnie just shook his head.

“Nothing to do with you.”

As Burnie and Blaine left the cafe, Geoff’s attention was turned once again to Kdin and Caleb. “Eat your fucking croissants.” He growled, before placing his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands.

“You okay, Geoff?” Jack asked, concerned, as Caleb obediently took a bite out of his pastry.

“Of course I’m okay, I’m not a kid.” Geoff snapped.

“He was pretty harsh though.” Kdin pointed out.

“The point still stands: I’m not a kid.”

“Well it sounds like a war’s a-brewin’.” Jack commented.

“No shit.” Geoff mumbled into his hands.

“And what was all that shit about ‘other forces at work’ and ‘not your only enemy, but your angriest’?” Jack mused, and Geoff shrugged. “I’m gonna debrief the others.” Jack said, pulling out his phone.

“Matt and Jeremy, yes. Don’t tell Lindsay.” Geoff ordered.

“Geoff, she needs to know.”

“Yeah, but not now. She has a lot going on at the moment”

“Geoff-”

“She has personal shit to deal with, okay? Just leave it.”

“Alright, fine. God, it almost feels like the old days, huh?”

“Fuck the old days.” Geoff looked up. “We’re entering a new era now, motherfucker.”

⁂

Lindsay was sick of looking at flowers. She was sure, if someone asked her, she could name every kind of flower they sold at the florist. Meg’s parents stood in the store for the third time that week, stroking leaves and petals, and mumbling about colours and scents. Lindsay listen to them have the same conversation they participated in every year. She wanted to scream at them that Meg wouldn’t care what kind of flowers they chose. They would only be left to wilt the next day.

It was the same deal with the photograph. Every year they would bicker over which picture to use for the photo board. Mum would want to use her 6th grade school photo. Dad would demand no selfies be use. Lindsay would try to coerce them into using the most recent picture of Meg - one Lindsay had taken of her right after she’d dyed her hair red. Meg would’ve found that most appropriate. Instead they would settle on the same picture they settled on every year - a nondescript Christmas Day photograph in which Meg was wearing a dress she would not have put on willingly, and a smile that was barely there. Lindsay’s biggest achievement of the year was that this time round she had convinced Meg’s parents to have a collage board. That way everyone could put up their favourite picture of her.

“Red.” Lindsay finally said.

“What’s that?” Meg’s dad looked at her.

“Pick red flowers. It goes with the theme.”

“Red is a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Her mum frowned.

Lindsay shrugged. “She liked it.”

As Lindsay got in her friend’s parents’ car, after they’d ordered their bouquets, she found herself struggling not to cry. She hated this time of year. In the planning period before the annual memorial service she would temporarily move in with Meg’s parents. A forty-five minute drive from her home by the coast, and a whole world away from the distraction of her daily life with Matt and Jeremy, she was faced with the reality of the loss she’d suffered. She would stay in the house she’d spent much of her childhood, breathing in the scent of the girl she’d played with. She’d eat dinner with that girl’s parents, in silence, observing the devastation that hung over their empty lives like a suffocating cloud.

After they pulled up to the house they all headed to the kitchen to make coffee, which they all took to separate rooms. Lindsay sat in the guestroom mentally preparing for tomorrow; the five year anniversary of the disappearance of her best friend, Meg Turney.

⁂

In downtown Achievement City, the Broadway was a street lit up at night by flashing lights. Whether public service vehicles, strobes leaking from clubs, or storefront signs, the Broadway was ablaze. One of the less offensive buildings was the Gold Gym, plain against the brightness of its counterparts, but appealing in being far easier on the eye. Whilst the front entrance was locked by 10pm, people trickled through the guarded back door, anticipating tonight’s event.

In the back of a parked van a block away, Burnie and Blaine sat facing each other. Burnie had been periodically checking his phone, pushing the home button to light up his screen whenever it went dark. His knee bounced erratically as he glanced from his phone to Blaine.

“I don’t want you to hold back.” He said.

Blaine smiled, securing his handwraps around his fingers. “I didn’t plan to.”

“Blaine.” Burnie said seriously. “I need you to understand how important this is.”

“I do.”

“No. Listen. If you win, I get the gym. That would be a _major_ asset for us. We would have Achievement City’s finest muscle at our disposal.”

“You already have Achievement City’s finest muscle at your disposal.” Blaine said, flexing to prove his point.

“Blaine.” Burnie said sternly, not in the mood for jokes.

Blaine rolled his eyes, but his grin stayed in place. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Burnie. Chill. I’m not gonna let you down.”

Burnie smiled at that. “I know you’re not.”

When Burnie’s phone buzzed with a drop call, the two men exited the van and began the walk towards the Gold Gym. They were let through the backdoor by the two security guards, and made their way down the stairs to the basement. Blaine revelled in the attention the audience gave him when they reached the bottom. He was in his element, receiving pats on the back and words of encouragement from his supporters as he headed towards the ring. He gave Burnie a parting smile, before slipping through the ropes to stand in his corner. Opposite him was Aaron Marquis, stoic in some form of pre-fight meditation. From outside the ring, Joel Heyman and a younger man were talking softly to him.

After a few moments Joel entered the ring, silencing the excited chatter of his guest by raising his hands. He cleared his throat. “Evening, people.” He paused to look at each boxer in turn. “Tonight we have in the ring Blaine Gibson, and my very own, _undefeated_ ,” he paused again, for effect. “Aaron ‘The Cowboy’ Marquis. Our royal guest tonight, Burnie Burns,” here his voice was dry with sarcasm, and the few members of the audience who weren’t afraid to chuckled. “has made his terms of the fight very clear. Bare knuckles. There will be no ref and no rounds - so it’ll be interesting to see how that plays out. Fighting continues until a knockout or tapout. I guess Burns wants to put on a good show so he’s made it as brutal as possible.” The audience cheered at that, and Joel shook his head. “You sadistic fucks.” He said, though his mouth quirked into a smile. “Okay, boys in the middle, and let’s get started.”

He squared the two fighters up against each other, gave them the go ahead, and made a swift exit from the ring.  

-

Blaine had gone straight for a jab-hook combo right off the bat. Chris sidled closer to Joel from where they stood just outside the ring. He crossed his arms, and raised a finger to his lips to bite his nail.

“Who do you think’s gonna win? Blaine looks pretty big. I didn’t realise he was gonna be that big.” He tapped his foot, anxious for the safety of his best friend.

“Aaron’s gonna win.” Joel said with conviction.

“Really?” Chris looked up at the taller man, instantly reassured. Joel nodded.

“Blaine’s got a lot of muscle, but he’s sloppy and impulsive. He’ll wear himself out before he’s landed any good hits. Aaron has the technique of a professional boxer, you know that.”

They observed as the men in the ring danced around each other. Blaine was intermittently throwing flurries of punches that only ever landed on Aaron’s arms. He was unable to break through Aaron’s defensive stance; his chin was tucked into his chest, and his arms were raised to cover his face and upper torso. Just as Joel had said, Blaine was expending his energy whilst Aaron waited for him to tire.

“See, even the way he throws punches is wrong.” Joel shook his head as he watched Blaine. Chris nodded in agreement. Having been Aaron’s friend for as long as he’d been boxing, though not a boxer himself, he’d developed an eye for technique. He wasn’t nearly as observant as Joel, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Now he too saw without a doubt that Blaine was not winning this fight.

Aaron, in all his experience, took his opportunity as soon as it presented itself to him. The second Blaine started to slow, with laboured breath and skin damp with sweat. Aaron dropped his fists from his face, feigning an opening. Blaine took the bait, bringing his arm up to aim a jab at his opponent's face. Aaron landed his own jab on Blaine’s exposed torso, winding him, and in almost the same second threw a hook that audibly cracked against his ribs.

“That’s it. He’s got him.” Joel commented. Chris smiled, partly with approval, and mostly with relief. There was no doubt that the impact of Aaron’s knuckles against Blaine’s ribs had at least fractured them. Dazed and struggling to spit out his gumshield through not being able to breathe, Blaine clenched his fists as if attempting another punch. Aaron’s fist, however, was already driving into his temple. He dropped immediately, unconscious, and those there to support Aaron cheered. “Looks like Burnie is gonna need a new bodyguard.” Joel said. Despite the victory on his behalf, Joel’s voice had no trace of humour or elation. Instead he watched solemnly as Burnie clenched his jaw on the other side of the ring.


End file.
